


Hanging by a Thread

by Zoadgo



Series: Merry Ficmas! [8]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to begrudging friends, F/M, Panic Attacks, Ropes course, references to past abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 18:31:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5508341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoadgo/pseuds/Zoadgo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anonymous prompt: <i>"Our whole class had a retreat to a ropes course, and you had a panic attack while we were climbing the rock wall, and I talked you through it. clarphy (bonus points if its murphy who's scared because ropes + heights freak him out) "</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Hanging by a Thread

Clarke stares out the window of the bus, cloudy and slick with the condensation of a couple dozen talkative students, and sighs, adding her own breath to the mix. An hour bus ride with all of her classmates is the sort of thing that seems uncomfortable on the surface, and then gets worse in reality. Not that she dislikes the other students, nothing of the sort, she’s just not exactly on friendly terms with them. So the trip to what is apparently ironically called the “confidence course” is a trial in boredom for Clarke as she sits in silence and listens to everyone else chatting and laughing.

“-gonna make that course our bitch, right, Murphy?” 

As always seems to happen on a bus full of high school students when a teacher is present, there’s a lull in conversation as one boisterous voice swears. Clarke knows that voice well enough, as does everyone on the bus, and the teacher doesn’t even bother turning around. Mr. Kane simply sighs, still reading a stack of papers he’d started in on when they’d boarded the bus.

“Dax.” Mr. Kane’s reproach is simply a weary intonation of the boy’s name, and Clarke hears Dax chuckle, as he always does whenever any teacher attempts to discipline him.

“Sorry K-dog, what’s a less fucking rude way of saying ‘bitch’?”

“You could try just not speaking, but I know better than to hope for that,” Kane mumbles, but the whole bus hears, of course, and people snicker for a moment before returning to their previous, cacophonous volume.

Clarke simply zones out, watching the city fade and turn into forests, the roads becoming rougher and the turns sharper, although their driver seems to have something against slowing down even on the uneven terrain. A few potholes draw surprised squeeks and laughter from some of the students, although they simply hurt Clarke’s tailbone and increase her desire to be off of the bus.

Soon enough, however, the bus rolls to a halt far off the main road, gravel crunching under the tires. Everyone rushes to their feet eagerly, jamming up the aisle, and Clarke remains seated, despite her desire to leave the humid confinement of the vehicle. She waits as her eager classmates pile off of the bus, identical looks of excitement on most of the faces. That is, until Dax and Murphy, who were at the very back of the bus, pass her seat.

Dax looks confident and vaguely bored, as he always does, but the real surprise is Murphy. Clarke had thought he would be as calm and bored as Dax is, but he looks far paler than normal. Clarke studies him curiously, standing and walking between the rows of seats. He chuckles at a few of Dax’s comments, but the sound is short and hard, obviously forced. His eyes are glued on his feet, his shoulders hunched with his hands crammed deep into the pockets of his jeans. There hardly seems to be a single grain of the cocky asshole that Clarke is used to ignoring in class.

The woods that Clarke steps into in the wake of her classmates is cool and damp with the onset of fall, and more than anything she wants to draw it. But of course her art supplies are safely stored back at school, and they’re not here for art, or to learn about nature. Clarke follows the straggling line of adolescents towards their goal, glad at the very least to finally be breathing fresh air.

As Dax’s commentary on the various anatomically impossible acts he’s going to perform upon the ropes course gets more vivid and Murphy grows uncharacteristically quieter, the course in question begins to show itself among the trees. A large cargo net visible in the distance, the hint of rope obscured by trees and ferns as the round a corner, and hiding most of the course from view, a tall wall with a single rope hanging down the middle of it.

Clarke actually feels herself grow a little excited at the prospect of running the course, at the potential to do well at something rather than just waste her time away in boredom, missing her academic and arts courses.The group fans out around Mr. Kane and a large, intimidating looking man in camouflage gear. He looks at all of them, not quite glaring, but completely stone faced.

“This is all of them?” He directs the question at Mr. Kane while continuing to stare down the students, giving extra attention to Dax and Murphy. At Mr. Kane’s nod, he addresses the group as a whole, “I’m Corporal Lincoln. As you all should know from the waivers you signed, this is a military confidence course. Admittedly a basic one, the risk for injury is minimized, but it’s still possible. The highest you will be from the forest floor is 40 feet on the cargo net, but it’s incredibly hard to fall off of that without trying. Most of the obstacles will have you between 4 and 10 feet off the ground. My advice is that if you’re going to fall, let yourself fall. You might get a wicked bruise, but you’re less likely to hurt or strain anything. Any questions or drop outs in light of seeing the course?”

There’s a small murmur from the students, some of the teens looking a little more nervous and Murphy looking positively ghastly, but Dax snorts his derision at the prospect of not doing it and Murphy gives him a shaky smile.Clarke shakes her head slightly; she can’t imagine being so desperate for your friend’s approval that you’d do something that so clearly terrifies you.

“Okay then. I’ll run the course once to show you what to do, follow me.”

Lincoln gives a brief explanation of each of the parts of the course, succinct and completely factual about what the obstacle is and how to overcome it, before doing so in an impressively short amount of time. It inspires Clarke, having a concept of how quickly the task can be completed. She knows that she won’t be able to do it as well as someone who likely has spent hundreds of hours doing similar activities, but that won’t stop her from trying.

By the time that they finish their demo of the course, pretty much everyone seems more calm, their worry over potential injury alleviated by seeing the course run flawlessly. Lincoln seems pleased by this, giving them a curt nod before splitting them up into pairs simply by grabbing the first two people and starting them on the first obstacle, the rope wall. One spots for the other, and with a bit of struggling, restrained cursing, and mocking from Dax, the pair makes it over the wooden construct and onto the next part of the course.

Two by two, Clarke’s class sets out onto the course far slower than Lincoln had, but doing it nonetheless. Clarke wonders for a moment, as the number of the waiting students dwindles, if she’ll be paired with Mr. Kane or with Lincoln. She idly counts, guessing at who’s going to be with who based on where they’re standing, and then she frowns, counting again. They should have an odd number, but- 

Octavia called in sick. Clarke remembers in a moment, remembering her friend calling her in the morning and moaning about how she was so upset she wouldn’t be able to go to the ropes course and “find herself a cute military guy”. Clarke had not factored in how that would change the number of their class, making it even and meaning that Clarke will end up with someone random in her class, at Lincoln’s discretion.

“You two.” Lincoln points, and Dax grabs a suddenly very frightened looking boy - Sterling, if Clarke remembers correctly, he’s always very quiet - by the shoulder to tackle the first obstacle.

Which leaves Clarke with Murphy. She glances at him, prepared to deal with the sarcasm that normally accompanies spending any amount of time with Murphy, ready to get the upper hand from the first words, but her inherent displeasure with the guy dies as she looks at him. He looks like he’s going to be sick, and Clarke finds herself feeling bad for him. She steps towards him hesitantly, almost going to pat him on the shoulder in a form of comfort before remembering that they don’t actually like each other.

“You going to be okay, Murphy?” Clarke keeps her voice quiet as she hears Dax yelling at Sterling to climb faster, and Murphy jumps at her words, as if he hadn’t noticed she was next to him.

“O-of course I am. What, you nervous, princess?” His voice is entirely shaky and although the words are the same as what he’s used to infuriate her many times in the past, Clarke doesn’t find them upsetting. 

“If I was, that wouldn’t be anything to be ashamed of. It’s an intimidating course,” Clarke speaks to him in a variation of the sort of voice she uses with the little kids at her mom’s clinic, when she tells them it’s okay to be afraid of needles. 

Murphy’s quiet for a long time as Dax clambers up the wall, his eyes sliding over the visible portions of the course without seeming to register any of it.

“I-”

“You two, go.” Lincoln’s order cuts Murphy off, and Murphy lets out a shaky breath before walking up to the wall.

He grips the rope so tight as he climbs that Clarke swears she can see every crevice in the joints of his knuckles through his skin, but he does climb. It takes him a little longer than it took Lincoln, but he doesn’t slide back to the ground as many of the other students had. When Murphy reaches the top, Clarke sees that his eyes are closed as he grabs the ledge and drops down the other side of the short wall.

Murphy circles back around in order to spot Clarke, and he looks a little better, so Clarke smiles at him and shoots him a “Well done”. She clambers up the wall as quickly as she can, enjoying the slight burn of the rope when her hands slip a touch, a reminder to be better. Her muscles strain pleasantly as she pulls herself up the wall, reaching the top in one try and hopping down the other side.

The next few obstacles go easily, Murphy shockingly nimble and surefooted on the logs and separated steps that climb up the sides of trees. He keeps glancing up, however, at the obstacle that seems to be the most fun to Clarke, and every time the pass another obstacle between them and the 40 foot inclined cargo net, he loses some of the surety he’d been seeming to build up.

Then it’s their next obstacle, one of the few that they’ll do side by side, and Murphy looks like death again. Clarke steps up to it, hoping that her being confident will help him possibly, but as her hand touches the first rope, Murphy reaches out and grabs her arm in a bruising grip. She turns to him, trying not to wince at the pain in her arm as she takes in the borderline panic on his features. His other hand is rubbing at the skin of his neck almost obsessively, and Clarke grabs his hand on an instinct to stop him. He looks at her, his gaze snapping down from the net of intertwined ropes, and Murphy shakes his head.

“I can’t do this,” Murphy’s voice is a frightened, strained whisper.

Clarke sees Lincoln and Mr. Kane coming towards them with concern, and she shakes her head at them. As proud a guy as Murphy, it must be hard enough for him to admit his fear to Clarke, adults aren’t going to help the situation any. She turns her attention back to Murphy, who’s looking at her like she’s holding his life in her hands.

“You don’t have to, Murphy. I won’t tell anyone if you don’t,” Clarke pauses, uncertain if it’s better to encourage him to face his fears or to give him an easy out, “but I’ll be beside you the whole way, okay? You’ve seen, I’m pretty strong, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

And Clarke finds herself genuinely meaning it. It’s not even pity that’s making her want to help Murphy, there’s just something so genuine and honest shining through his fear, and Clarke wants to keep that safe, to protect his honesty.

Murphy’s eyes slide back up to the obstacle, and he lets out a breath with a shudder, his hand tightening on Clarke’s arm for one moment before releasing her with a nod. Clarke rubs at where he’d grabbed her for a moment, hoping it won’t bruise, and then returning his nod and allowing Murphy to take the first steps up the obstacle, following close in his peripheral vision.

Clarke hopes that Murphy will get better, his colour return to his face as he climbs, but he doesn’t. Every inch they gain in elevation, he looks more and more like death, and Clarke fears she’s done the wrong thing by encouraging him to climb. When they’re about halfway up, Clarke can hear Murphy’s breathing getting more panicked, and his whole body is shaking far more than their exertion should cause.

“Murphy?” Clarke shifts closer to him, and she can hear him muttering under his breath, a rapid litany of words which Clarke can only pick a few words from. “Mom”, “please don’t”, and “sorry” fall again and again among indistinct pleas.

Clarke inches closer still and touches Murphy’s shoulder, and he looks up at her like a wild animal. The ropes sag under their combined weight, and Murphy is pressed to her side, but it seems like he’s barely seeing her.

“Murphy, hey, it’s me,” Clarke attempts to soothe him, and Murphy draws in a ragged breath.

“Clarke, I can’t- I can’t- can’tcan’tcan’t-” Murphy trails off into panicked repetition, and Clarke feels a punch of guilt to her gut.

She made Murphy climb up here, or at least encourage him to. He told her he couldn’t, and she thought he’d be okay, and now he’s not and it’s all on her. His panic attack 20 feet above the forest floor is her responsibility, and Clarke knows she has to help him somehow. She glances at his hands, flexing almost convulsively on the ropes where his gaze attaches, and Clarke makes a decision for step one, at the very least.

“Okay, Murphy, you’re going to have to trust me on this one.”

Clarke releases her own hold on the ropes, laying on the inclined net on her stomach, and reaches for Murphy’s hands. Prying his fingers loose is like trying to bend steel, until the rope’s no longer touching his fingers and his hands fly away as if frightened of the ropes themselves. Clarke moves quickly as Murphy brings his hands to his chest, one of them snaking up to rub at his throat. She flips him over before he has a chance to fall on his face, her arms straining at the awkward maneuver.

“See? No more ropes, it’s okay, Murphy. We’re not up high, there’s no ropes, it’s all good.” Clarke pushes herself up slightly to be able to watch his face for signs of him calming down, and she sees his lips still moving in the same anxious mantra.

They’re mostly pressed together by the slack of the ropes, but Murphy doesn’t seem to notice their proximity at all. Even when Clarke shakes his shoulder and he looks at her, he doesn’t really seem to see her. His eyes looks at her, but Clarke doesn’t see any sort of recognition or sense in them, so she readies herself to try a more drastic move to break him from his cycle of panic.

“Murphy, can you understand me? Can you hear what I’m saying?” Clarke asks, and Murphy doesn’t respond at all, so she sighs and adds for her own benefit, “You can hate me for this, but don’t tell anyone, okay?”

Clarke grabs Murphy’s chin in her hand, leans forward, and presses her lips to his, the ropes shifting to force their bodies fully against each other. She feels him gasp at the contact, and she only remains there for a second before leaning back to see if her plan worked. Murphy’s hand has dropped from his throat, and he’s looking at Clarke with eyes that she never noticed the sharp beauty in before now. Really looking at her, this time, not looking through her. His brow furrows intensely, almost pained looking, but worlds better than the mindless fear he’d been displaying before.

“Wha- why?” Murphy asks, his breathing heavy, but returning to normal.

“You were panicking, I had to break the cycle. I, uh,” Clarke can feel herself blushing and glances to the ground below them as she clears her throat, “I saw it in a TV show.”

“Oh.” Murphy drops his hands on his chest with a soft thump, looking up to the sky for a moment before closing his eyes, “It was… the ropes, falling, everything.”

Murphy shudders again, and Clarke grabs one of his hands on instinct, to try and prevent him from lapsing back into the anxious cycle. He opens his eyes to shoot her a shaky smile before closing them again, and his breathing remains even.

“You don’t have to tell me, I don’t need to know why, I just need to know if you’re okay now.”

“I _can’t_ tell you why,” Murphy whispers almost inaudibly, and Clarke decides to ignore it as he raises his voice and replies, “I’ll be fine now, I think.”

“Are you sure? Look at me, Murphy,” Clarke orders, and Murphy opens his eyes and looks at her obediently. His look is the same apathetic mask Clarke’s used to for a moment, and then that fades in a heartbeat.

“Can we just- Can we stay here for a bit?” Murphy sounds so vulnerable, and Clarke nods, laying on her back next to him with a sigh, pressed up against him like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Yeah, we can stay here as long as you need.”

They end up having the longest finishing time of any pair except Dax and Sterling, who end up not actually finishing the course. Clarke considers it a win, because Murphy makes it over the rest of the net wall, and every obstacle after that passes with ease. On the way back to school, Murphy sits with Dax again, but Clarke smiles when she hears him tell his friend to “shut the hell up” when Dax is mocking Sterling for not managing one the obstacles.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy holidays, everyone! Welcome to the third day of Ficmas! 
> 
> This was such a perfect prompt for these two, and I honestly might be tempted to do a follow up to this if there’s interest. I like them grudgingly liking and helping each other like this, idk.
> 
> Forever giving all the love to my editor [Etra](http://coldsaturn.tumblr.com), she’s the most amazing person!
> 
> Come spend the holidays with me [on tumblr!](http://jonnmurphy.tumblr.com) And thank in advance for reading/commenting/leaving kudos <3


End file.
